


Holy Water Cannot Help you Now

by SummerLeighWind



Series: Seven Devils [1]
Category: Guardians of Childhood - William Joyce, Rise of the Guardians (2012)
Genre: Age Regression/De-Aging, Amnesia, F/M, Father-Daughter Relationship, Fluff and Angst, Gen, Harm to Children, Kid Fic, Kidnapping, Minor Character Death, mild violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-29
Updated: 2013-03-27
Packaged: 2017-11-27 09:47:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 16
Words: 18,030
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/660521
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SummerLeighWind/pseuds/SummerLeighWind
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack gapes; a thin-faced, skinny boy, with radiant gold eyes stares up at him in angry silence; "Pitch?" He whispers, The child's face twists into a snarl, baring gleaming white shark teeth for display. "Frost," he spits.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. I

Landing on the green grass, Jack Frost wriggles his toes in the thick tendrils and grins. It's been a year since he last was in Burgess, the air's beginning to cool and Jack thinks it's about time the first frost of the season came. Taking a step forward, frost fans out settling like a fine dust on the green. Smiling at his handy-work, Jack approaches a tree near a thicket in the forest and blows on the colored leaves, white coats them, weighing the delicate things down and causing a few to fall. Leaning his weight on his staff, he makes to admire his contribution to winter, when something black and shadowed moves somewhere in the darkness.

 _Pitch..._ His mind hisses and Jack's heart picks up from it's near non-existant thump to something wilder. Frowning, he forces himself not be scared; the man feeds off it, he may be weakened, but who know's what strength he'd gain from just a little bit? So taking a deep determinded breath, Jack steps into the crowd of trees to see a nightmare chuffing at the ground. Snapping a brittle twig, the creature raises its head and trains it's blood-red eyes on Jack. "Hey there" He calls, raising his staff in greeting. the beast makes a noise akin to a scoff and begins to meander away, Jack blinks. "Well, okay." He makes to turn away, threat obviously small enough that it could wait a day or two, until he could round up the Gaurdians, anyway. The creature whinnies and shakes it's head at Jack, catching his attention once more.

Jack blinks, strange...does the nightmare want the teenager to follow her? Taking a step towards the animal, curiosity peaked, Jack asks "Do you want me to follow you?" The stare the animal gives Jack makes _him_ feel like he's the simpleton. "Hey, no reason to be nasty" he grumbles quickly striding over to the animal. He's tense, after all this could be a trap, but Jack has a feeling that this isn't the case. The creature huffs a breath and begins to clomp further into the darkness, at one point, Jack has to lay his hand on the nightmare's hide not wanting to get lost in the darkness. Slowly, but surely, they come to a clearing; in it, a streak of moonlight outlines a iron-framed bed discarded in the middle of the opening. "Is that..?" Jack asks question fading off as the beast disappears into the shadows. A bit irritated, Jack shouts "Thanks for just leaving me here! I can totally find my way back in the _dark_!" Grumbling under his breath, Jack decides there's not much he can do, so he nears the rusty bed and pokes it with his staff. When it doesn't move, he decides it's not some weird gaurd dog that'll bite him (or chase him).

Circling the bed, he tries to understand why the nightmare brought him to it. It seems like such a random place to put a bed...a thought coming to mind, Jack bends down and peers underneath. All he sees is a dark hole, like the one Bunnymund uses, "Well, no Boogeyman tonight..." He sighs. Deciding the only way to solve what's going on, he dives feet first into the hole. He yells as he slips and slides down the twisting tunnel untill he lands in a stone labryinth beneath alight with only a few sparse torches. Eyes roving the stone hall, Jack is reminded of a dungeon; he snickers, trust Pitch to model his home after a castle. Getting to his feet, Jack begins to stride down the corridor occasionaly stopping to look for a door, after a while of searching and squinting, he's ready to give up and turn back to find the hole he came from when he hears a high neigh. Spinning around, he sees the nightmare from earlier. Scratching his head, he murmurs "How'd you get in here?" The beast ignores him in favor of nudging her muzzle against a brick in the wall that jutts of just a little more than the rest. Approaching it, Jack reaches out to touch it. "What's so special about-Woah!" The wall moves abruptly, revealing a secret hallway. Gaping, Jack doesn't take a step in until a slimy nose nudges him in. Twisitng around, he scowls at the creature "Okay! Okay!" He grumbles, "I'm moving!" Walking in, he huffs "sheesh!" Walking farther in, he sees in the dim light a wooden door waits at the end of the hall imposing and dark.

Jack gazes at it, trepiditon running through his veins like blood. Turning around, he says "I don't know-" but stops suddenly when he sees that the nightmare is once again missing. "Just great! Disappear when I need you most!" The teenager grumbles, taking a step forward, he grips his staff tightly and kicks the door in; staff raised ready to fight off any offendors. Staring into the shadowed room, all Jack sees is a cluster of nightmares and a rusty bed (like the one above ground) pushed up against the wall. Stepping into the room, he calls "Heeellooo!" No one answers him at first, scuffing his foot against the stones, Jack asks "Anyone here?" Something scuttles, it _sounds_ like it came from under the bed, but glancing over to the nightmares, Jack can't be certain it wasn't one of them. Poking around the room, the teenager questions "Pitch? You around here somewhere?" Again, no answer. Turning to the creatures, he implores "Think one of me could tell me if you've seen a guy 'bout this tall? Gray-skinned? Gold-eyes? Fear incarnate?" One of them snorts and jerks their head towards the bed. Jack blinks. Huh. Maybe these beasts aren't so bad after all. Walking over, he drops to his knees and looks underneath the bed. Something in the shadows twitches. "Pitch?" Jack inquires.

There's a scratching sound, like loose cloth dragged over stone. "If your not gonna come out, I'm gonna pull you out." He threatens. Gold-eyes pop open, wide and furious. The Boogeyman, though, stubbornly refuses to move. "Alright then," Jack says with a shrug, reaching under he grasps hold of the dark folds of Pitch's clothing and as he tries to pull him out two little gray hands pop out and cry to claw at the teenager's arm. Having none of it, he hurriedly pulls the bundle out of the dark and into the glow of the torches. Jack gapes; a thin-faced, skinny boy, with radiant gold eyes stares up at him in angry silence; "Pitch?" He whispers,

The child's face twists into a snarl, baring gleaming white shark teeth for display. "Frost," he spits.


	2. II

Jack stares, Pitch glowers, Jack falls sideways bursting with laughter as he struggles to stay upright with the help of his staff. "Oh! Oh! You look even more ridiculous than Bunnymund did!" He remarks, pointing a finger in the Boogeyman's face. Pitch growls and while Jack is too distracted with laughing to notice, the boy chomps down on the offensive finger with his razor teeth.

"OUCH!" Jack yowls, yanking his hand back; Pitch is quick to release the finger, having made his stand.

Glaring at the teenager, Pitch crosses his skinny arms across his chest and declares "you shall not point at me if you wish to keep all of your fingers."

Paying little attention to the boy in favor of his injured finger, Jack moans. "That hurt! Why are you're teeth so sharp anyway?!" Pitch scowls even more, _idiot_ , he thinks; deciding the boy is hardly worth a moment more of his time, he drops to his knees and plans to crawl back into his hiding place, but before he's fully underneath again, Jack's caught his ankle and is pulling him out while he scrambles to find hold in the cracks between the stones that make up the floor. "Hey!" The teenager yells, "what are you doing?" He demands.

Sighing in aggravation, Pitch twists around to glare at the now older spirit. "What do you think?" He sneers, "I'm waiting to die."

Jack frowns. "Die? You're just low on believers, it's not like you'll actually die from this." He tells him, a nervous gleam coming to his eyes.

Pitch rolls his eyes and begins to tap his claws against the stone floor in agitation. "That's what _you_ think," he grumbles; "If I stay here long enough...I'm sure someday those pathetic children will forget all about me and I can fade away with the rest of my dignity." He says to Jack.

The boy licks his lips and begins to fidget nervously. "I'm sure we can think of something-"

"No," Pitch cuts in, " _we_ won't." Once again trying and failing to squirm away from the teenager he explains to the boy "I have no interest in working with you."

Eyes hardening with a determination, Pitch feels like screaming, he just _knows_ what's going to happen next. "Well, I'm not leaving you here all alone." He declares.

"I'm your _enemy_ " Pitch reminds him in disgust.

The boy glances away and begins to drum a rhythm on the ground. "No," he sighs, "not now."

"What do you mean?" Pitch hisses.

Gesturing a vague arm at him, Jack Frost huffs "look at you!" Pitch doesn't. "You're a kid! A _little_ one, I bet you couldn't scare a fly, let alone another kid!" Jack argues, the boy cocks his head to the side then, obviously finding himself in a new thought. _Typical!_ Pitch grumbles to himself. "A kid..." Jack murmurs, "a kid!" He bursts forth bouncing to his feet a wide grin split across his face. Pitch raises and eyebrow and tries to sneak back under the bed, but Jack steps on his too large cloak; once again halting his escape. Crouching low, until he's just mere centimeters from his face, Jack comments "You know, Guardians are suppose to protect little kids."

Pitch sneers. "I'm _not_ a child" he informs the frost spirit.

Jack flippantly disagrees. "Sure ya are! Just look at you!"

"Im not!" But, at Jack's all too happy smile, Pitch knows this argument is just one of many fine points lost on the teenager. Sighing, he tries to roll away; however, Jack's scooping him off the floor into his cool arms. "Put me down!" He orders, wriggling and beating his fists against the Guardian's arms.

"You're too cute" Jack coos.

Pitch feels himself blush, the boy's younger than him! He has no right to make such ludicrous statements. "I'm not!" He counters.

"Maybe we should go see Nor-"

"No!" Pitch cries.

At the panick-stricken look on the boogeyman's face, Jack's brow dimple's in confusion. "Why not? I bet he has some book or something to help us make you your old self."

Pitch glares up the boy. "I'll be my _old self_ when children are _afraid_ of me."

Tightening his hold on the little boy, Jack shakes his head. "Not gonna happen."

Pitch raises an eyebrow in question. "How _else_ will I become myself again?

Jack's eyes become dazed and he murmurs "we'll think of something." Pitch swallows thickly, he highly doubts they'll 'think of something', if anything they'll forcibly keep him this way so he'll never be a threat again. Bringing the kid into a less awkward position, Jack asks again "So North's?"

Pitch gazes up at Jack with dull eyes and turns limp. "I doubt any resistance on my part will matter." He sighs.

Jack bites his lip. "That's not true..." He mumbles.

Pitch's eyes sharpen for all of a second as he snarls "you lie. _I_ know it and _you_ know it."

"Can we just go?" Jack exhales tiredly.

" _You_ can, if I must, I am a prisoner." Pitch informs him.

Jack can't help but roll his eyes. "Well, aren't you _dramatic._ " Scuffing his feet, Jack asks "Anything I should know before we leave? Will you burst into flames in fresh air? Burn to a crisp in the sun? T-"

"Yes." Pitch buts in.

"Huh?" Jack mumbles dumfounded.

"I'll burn in the sunlight," Pitch repeats; next, he adds "painfully."

The frost spirit groans and runs a hand through his hair. "Any suggestions to keep you from dying?"

"Something to cover me," Pitch tells him thoughtfully, his voice wavers a tad as he tacks on "maybe."

Jack hums. "Well, okay," he mutters eyes darting about the room until the land on top of the bed, where a worn blanket of what appears to be purple satin lays carefully folded. "We'll try it out, see what happens." Pitch's fingers cling to his hoodie, a tiny shiver runs through him; though, Jack can't know for certain if it's from fear or the cold of his body. Picking up the blanket, the teenager shakes it out before draping it over Pitch. He adjusts it a little after inspection, a row of tiny pale toes juts out on one side, he'd hate for Pitch to get hurt like this.

Once Pitch is covered, Jack begins the trek back to the surface. When he comes back to the hole, he jumps and scrabbles up through it all the while keeping a strong hold on Pitch's fragile body. When they reach the surface, Jack realizes he spent quite a bit more time down there than he thought, instead of it being dawn like he assumed it would be, it was mid morning. Poking the bundle in his arms, Jack inquires "you alive under there?"

The tiny body shifts closer to him. "Yes." He grunts.

Jack smiles blithely; "well, it's time for take off then!" And without further adieu, he's catching a ride on the northern wind in the direction of Santa Claus's workshop.


	3. III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos guys! :)

As they travel farther and farther north, the sky begins to darken to a gray; until, eventually, it was black with only the stars and the moon for company. Deciding it is safe, Jack draws the blanket away from Pitch's head; what he finds surprises him. The little boy rests his head in the crook underneath Jack's chin, his small face gaunt and lax in sleep; Jack for the first time, wonders when the last time the Boogeyman slept. Grimly, he thinks, probably not since he tried to eradicate the Guardians and bring about a second dark age. The winter spirit bites his lip as he runs a hand through the shadow-black thickets of Pitch's hair, with the way things are, Jack's having trouble keeping in mind that this child isn't a child. Jack scrapes his nails against Pitch's neck as he withdraws his hand, Pitch sighs in his sleep and presses closer to Jack one hand curling close to his mouth.

Swallowing thickly, Jack's reminded of the sister he lost; she'd been about Pitch's physical age when he died...had she trusted him so fully as to fall asleep in his arms? To not awaken when he toyed and ruffled her hair? Find comfort in his ministrations and touch? Gazing down at the black hair, Jack feels his chest pang with more than loss of his own; what of Pitch? No spirit was born immortal. Did he have a family? Mother? Father? Brother? Sister? Lover? Wife? Daughter? Son? Had they comforted him? Had he comforted them? Who had Pitch been? Did he know? Did anyone know? Cradling the young body closer, Jack vows, if he does anything to help Pitch, it will be to find if there was ever a family, someone, who loved and was loved by Pitch. Sighing, Jack lifts his head to see the glowing of the North Pole; his spirits rise with excitement. Letting out a low whoop, he loops with the wind several times as they approach the beacon of light. Pitch stirs in his arms and Jack makes sure the child doesn't tumble as he makes the rough landing in the snow on the edge of the village.

"We're here!" He chirps happily to Pitch.

"Really? I hadn't noticed." Pitch snarks, squirming in Jack's arms.

"Don't think so, kiddo, you don't have shoes; you'll get your little toesies-posies nipped off." Jack tells Pitch as he hefts him higher in his grip in an attempt to keep him from crawling out of his numb arms.

Pitch snaps his gaze to meet the young Guardians, his eyes glimmer with fury and his mouth sets into a disgusted sneer. "I am not five, you moron," Pitch seethes, "I ask you to refrain from behaving as such."

Jack laughs and begins to trot down towards North's workshop. "We'll see," he says, "we'll see." The closer they come, the more giddy Jack feels and the more trepidation Pitch feels; when they are a matter of a yard from the warm workshop Pitch begins to claw at the hands that trap him.

"No!" He howls, "I won't! You can't make me!"

Jack hisses as one of the sharp nails slices into his cheek; yanking his head back, he tightens his hold on Pitch to something near painful and demands forcefully "What the hell are you doing?!"

The child screams, kicks his little feet into Jack's stomach and stretches and taunts in his attempt to claw out Jack's eyes. "Unhand me!" He orders. Jack scowls and tries to be heard over the child's shouts, yet it's impossible.

Trembling with anger, he gives the Boogeyman one rattling shake and snarls "Stop!" Pitch stops. Tears tinting his gray skin with streaks of silver, he sniffles and wipes a hand under his runny nose. Blowing out a tension filled breath, Jack questions quieter and calmer "what's got you so worked up? Huh?" Pitch doesn't give an answer at first, snivelling and still tearing up a bit. Jack falls back into the snow, causing a find powder of frost to bloom around them as he brings Pitch to his chest to cradle him while they wait for him to regain control. When the child's fallen silent and his golden eyes have focused on something other than Jack, the teenager grasps the little boy's chin and makes him meet his eyes as he coaxes him to talk to him. "So, what's wrong?" He implores. Pitch shudders and presses his face into Jack's chest. Poking him gently in the cheek, one golden eye peaks around to gaze up at Jack. "Hey kiddo, ya got ta talk to me" Jack whispers.

He nods his head and pushes himself away to gaze up at Jack with wary eyes. "What if they kill me?" He murmurs.

"They won't, your a kid" he tells him, feeling a bit relieved that they're back on this again and he's not freaking out over something new.

"You might see it that way," Pitch mutters after a pause, "but, that doesn't mean they'll see it that way."

Jack shakes his head. "Look," he starts, "if anyone tries anything I'll kick their butts and we'll high-tail it outta there and figure out something different, okay?" He finishes asking for Pitch's conformation in the plan. Pitch doesn't seem any more assured than before; nevertheless, he agrees with a consenting nod of his head. Smiling at him, Jack stands back up keeping a strong hold on the kid as they go and knock on the door. Unsurprisingly, a moment later, Phil the Yeti is the one to answer the door. Waving at the creature, Jack says "Hey Phil! Do ya think we could see Santa? Like now?" Holding out Pitch for the Yeti to stare at, he explains "it's like an emergency."

The guy huffs at him and step away from the door allowing Jack in as he goes to find Santa. While they wait, Jack whistles a cheery tune and Pitch groans trying to hide under the blanket once more. A minute later, a less than pleased North is approaching them, his arms crossed. "What's the meaning of this Jack?" He demands, coming to stand in front of the youth.

Pulling the blanket away, Jack shoves Pitch right under North's nose against the boy's protests and answers "This!"

Staring cross-eyed at the little Boogeyman, North's mouth unhinges. "Oh my..." He whispers, "Pitch?"

Glaring at the man (even as he struggles to hide himself in Jack's arms), the child snaps. "Who else could I possibly be?" He sneers and North falls back a hand on his brow.

"I think," He begins, "this would be a good time for something a bit stronger than milk and cookies." He sighs, rubbing at his weathered temple in an attempt to steal himself from the oncoming headache.

Finally letting Pitch curl against him again, Jack bounces the child in hopes of keeping his hold and nods. "You'll help?" He inquires.

North eyes the two of them. "I'll try," he eventually replies. Gesturing vaguely in the direction Jack knows the man's study to lay, Santa implores "shall we take this to my office?"

Jack readily follows. "Definitely!" He agrees, nearly skipping after the older Guardian as they go to his study.


	4. IV

Tucked into his favorite armchair beside the toasty fire, North plucks the cork from his stash of Vodka and pours himself a shot full and downs. Exhaling as his belly warms and his throat and mouth tickles, he turns his attention to Jack and Pitch who sit in the chair opposite both of their eyes wide with wonderous emotions. Picking up the plate of sugar cookies an elf had brought him only ten minutes before, he holds it out for the boys. "Cookie?" He implores and Jack with eyes alight greedily grabs up three, North clears his throat and lets his gaze flicker between Jack and Pitch. The teenager slows in exuberance and squints briefly as he deciphers Santa's thoughts, his face flickers to understanding and with a giant smile he presses one of his cookies into Pitch's hands.

"Here! Take one!" The boy insists and with a little uncertainty, the younger boy takes the treat. North chuckles and settles back in his chair with a mug of steaming hot chocolate in hand. Pitch nibbles at the edges of the cookie as Jack takes a generous bite from his own, how different they are, yet they both still look about the room and him with disbelief; as if they can't trust their eyes. Brushing the crumbs from his fingers, Jack smiles at Santa Clause with all his pearly white teeth as he tells him "I don't think I ever had cookies until I became a Guardian!" Then with a happy laugh, he corrects "I don't think I ever had any sweets before you gave me some North!" The older Guardian hides his pains with a cheery grin as he secretively pours another thumb-full of Vodka to put in his drink. How strangely Jack took to them, how eager, how easily, like a puppy to its first master. He struggles to hold his smile as his eyes move to the tiny Pitch, his golden eyes are large and his tiny face soiled with remnants of green and red sugar crystals and crumbs; the way he stares at the cookie, it makes North feel more and more like the Guardians failed not only Jack.

Gentle and quiet, North asks "What of you Pitch?" The little boy raises his gaze, staring at North in a confounded way. Patiently, the old man elaborates "When last did someone give you a treat?"

Pitch's face morphs between a number of emotions before settling on something decidedly desolate. "Never," he murmurs, "not until now." North can't help the tears that well in his eyes, but he can help them from falling; sucking in a silent breath he blinks his eyes rapidly for a moment evading the tears for a later time. Reaching across the empty space between him and the boys, North settles a hand on Jack's knee and with his other runs his hand through Pitch's hair.

They stare at him with weary hope, as if a kind touch is not something to expect; though, always a prayer unanswered. "You boys," he whispers, "I want you to know, if you ever want something; a place to visit, a place to rest, a place to stay, a place to belong, my home's always open to you." Jack giggles and Pitch pulls away frowning, North knows they don't believe him; not now, but he plans to prove however long they'll stay here, that he means it. Sighing tiredly, North stands and offers a hand to Jack. "It's late," he says, "shall I show you to room?" He inquires.

Grabbing onto the hand and freezing it to the touch, Jack nods. "Yeah, I guess we can spend the night." Pitch wriggles in Jack's arms, fussing in his silent way; North chuckles as Jack simply holds him closer.

"Come, I show you my guest room!" North booms, waving in the direction of the stairs. Taking them up the winding steps, he leads them to the neglected room he's only recently begun to give life to again, opening the door; he shows them the sparse area with a proud smile. "I carved furniture." He tells them.

Jack grins. "Looks great North!" He compliments taking a step in to the room, he runs a searching finger over the surface of the tiny desk near the door. "You even keep it dusted" the teenager smirks.

North chuckles. "Yes, I always be ready for guests" he teases; Jack shares in his joke and snickers, while little Pitch yawns. Jack blinks at the sound, then, with eyes tinge warmer than before he mutters quietly "guess we should hit the sack, huh?"

Leaning against the door, North smiles. "Yes, we talk more in morning" he agrees.

"G'night, then, I guess" Jack murmurs falling down on the bed with Pitch still tucked in his arms.

Stepping back, North slowly begins to close the door watching silently as Jack and Pitch rearrange themselves to suit the bed. "Good night Jack and Pitch" the old Guardian whispers closing the door with little more than a creak.

North returns to his study, he sits at his desk and contemplates contacting the other Guardians; however, he decides against it. He has yet to think of a way to break it to them that would not bring them crashing down his door and stealing Pitch away in the night for his final end. Restless, he gets to his feet for a third time within the hour and figures he will not think of something tonight or on his own. Choosing next to go to bed, he plods up the stairs and stops at the guest room to peer in on the boys. He gasps at the sight that awaits him;

a woman slight as she is tall, with hair the color of fertile ground and skin white and pure as snow sits beside young Jack and Pitch; her body leaned over as she drops a butterfly kiss upon Pitch's brow, while her green-tinged fingers pull the purple blanket further up Pitch's shoulders. Opening the door further, North thoroughly shocked, breaths "Mother Nature?"

Her body shifts, beetle-black eyes training on him as her jaw clenches. "North" She replies in cool tones.


	5. V

Gaze drifting between Mother Nature's face and the spot her curled fists lay, North cannot help but see more than he wishes. Frowning at her, North leans against the doorway and attempts to collect the right words to speak to her with. Yet, as the seconds tick by and the minutes lengthen, North for all his work has yet to find the correct thing to say. Finally, he settles for the simplest of questions that he can only hope will be adequate. "What bring you here?" He implores quietly, eyes watching the boys for any sign of waking.

The woman doesn't answer right away; first she unfurls her fist-green finger by green finger-then she smooths the worn purple blanket over Pitch's narrow shoulders, next stretches her arm back to tweak Jack's nose (surprisingly, the boy only sniffs in his sleep before scooting closer to Pitch) and by the time she finally chooses to turn her attention to North, he's fidgeting from the anticipation. Standing up from the bed in one graceful motion, she glides across the room and places a dainty hand on the old man's chest and leans in close whispering with her apple red lips; "merely checking up on bits of nature."

North struggles-greatly-to stay focused, to not lose his stake in knowing or before she can come up with an answer solid enough he could not call her out on it. He parts his lips to question further, but, then, Mother Nature's lips are meeting his and North is overwhelmed with the smells of freshly turned dirt of spring, the scents of the summer ocean, the sweet smells of fall harvests and winter's crisp snowfall scent they all mix into one grand perfume that North knows he could only ever call earth. Grunting; she winds her ivy-like arms around his neck and as her sharp frame presses against his softer one, North has to use every bit of his screaming will-power to push the woman away, panting and angry.

"You not trick me!" North growls low and feral.

Mother Nature pouts. Flicking her wrist under a tendril of mused hair, the woman sighs; "I almost had you." She remarks. North does not answer, he will not admit to a truth that could endanger this small chance he may have gained.

Glaring, he crosses his arms and tells her. "We talk, but in kitchen" he orders.

The woman frowns, but quickly it disappears to be replaced with a nonchalant shrug. "If that's what you wish" she consents.

"It is" North agrees with a smirk, putting a large hand on her bony shoulder, North guides her away from the room "I have the elves make us something" he says to her.

Allowing herself to be led, Mother Nature shakes her head at his suggestion. "No need, I do not feel hunger."

Eyes twinkling something mad, North barks a laugh as they rush down the stairs. "None of us feel hunger," he murmurs "but, that does not mean we cannot enjoy eating."

Coming to the cozy little kitchen, Mother Nature drops into a chair and exhales deeply. "If I must," she mutters, "I shall have a glass of wine."

North accepts this with a nod of his head, gesturing to an elf who waits quietly in the corner, he orders to them "A bottle of wine please." It jumps to its feet and scurries from the room to meet his friends request. Smiling, North turns to take a seat across from Mother Nature, who eyes him with something like distaste.

"I did not realize you were so..." she fades off as words escape her.

"Charming?" Santa jokes.

"conniving" she smirks, razor white teeth (it makes North shiver, they are so much like Pitch's and it makes him fear for Jack who would not be able to yell out for help if the Boogeyman sink them into his neck while he sleeps defenceless).

Smiling back in a weary way, North decides to ask his question again. "What bring you here?" He repeats.

The woman's lips tilt in displeasure. "As I said before, merely to check up on bits of nature" she answers voice twanging with irritation.

A bottle is set in front of North, distracted for the moment, he accepts the two glasses next shoved into his hand. Bending over his knees, he smiles at the elf who scowls back up at him. "Thank you." He mumbles. The creature nods before backing out of the room, leaving the old man and the woman to their privacy. Popping the cork, he pours the deep red drink and glances up to see Mother Nature's beetle-black eyes trained on the liquid as her little petal-pink tongue darts our from her lips, dabbing them until they glisten. Handing her the first glass, the old man remarks "haven't had glass in quite a while?"

Reaching out, her green fingers wrap around the stem of the glass and with a greedy sip, she grins-white teeth stained red-"No, not for centuries" she nearly purs.

North chuckles and takes a small sip of his own. Mother Nature is radiant in this light...but as she leans in close, wrists crossed and chin resting upon them, his mind remembers his previous line of questions. Setting his drink aside for the time, he says to her "you favored one over the other."

She blinks her eyes and purses her lips at him. "What are you talking about?" She asks.

"The boys," North blurts, "you paid more attention to Pitch than Jack." He elaborates.

She tilts her head, seemingly not comprehending his line of thoughts. "Don't all mothers favor their children who are sick or hurting?" She inquires of him.

Gazing at the half-empty bottle of wine, North refuses to gaze at her as he answers. "No," he whispers, "no one favors Pitch."

Rising up from her seat, Mother Nature slams her dainty hands upon the table in a unfamiliar show of anger, causing it to shake as if a earthquake's tremor had run through it. "Who says I cannot care for Pitch when he is hurting?"

Raising his eyes to meet hers, Nicholas St. North tells her simply. "None care for fear."

Her body trembles, she quivers and in a sudden show of weakness falls back limply into her chair; body curled in and all allure, poise and stoicism lost. "He was not always fear" she almost whimpers.

North gazes on, pitying and ignorant. "No, I suppose he was not" he agrees.

Eyes beseeching and tear-filled, she murmurs "he was not evil, he's not evil now."

Reaching across the table, North takes her angular hand in his encompassing grip and with sympathetic eyes nods. "No, not evil, just..."

"Misunderstood" Mother nature supplies, calming as North seemingly understands her words.

"Yes" the old man consents, leaning in further, the tips of their noses almost touch.

"Yes..." the woman echoes closing the gap as she captures North in a heated kiss. Responding in kind, North deepens their kiss and makes to pull her willow body onto the table. As the man presses kiss upon kiss upon her, Mother Nature entwines her arms around him; gasping breathless as North bites at her arched neck. "Yes..." she laughs against his jaw.


	6. VI

When the boys stumble into the kitchen the next morning, North wills himself to act as inconspicuous as possible (especially since Mother Nature's tickling his leg with her bare toes beneath the table-cloth), grinning over at them, he greets "hello boys!"

Jack yawns and slips into a chair beside him, happily heaping eggs and bacon on his plate. "Hey North" he mumbles around his first forkful of food. North smiles at the teenager and leans over ruffling the white hair before turning to the little boy hovering in the doorway his golden eyes knowing and gleaming with an unidentifiable emotion. His eyes make North's heart beat like a drum; even when Pitch's so very small and vulnerable, he manages to raise doubt and distrust in his being that he simply can't shake.

Despite the negativity Pitch's very appearance raises, North makes himself smile at the Boogeyman. The old man waves his mug up for the boy to see and inquires "come eat Pitch?" The child's eyes only harden into a glare as he crosses his arms.

"What's she doing here?" He demands in a tone not fit for a child of his stature, sighing North opens his mouth to give a undecidedly vague answer when;

"To see if Jack was here-which he is-winter's a bit late in some places, balance and all that, you know." She explains nonchalant as she slips her feet to the ground to rest her elbows on the table in a forcibly relaxed gesture.

Jack having started to listen at the mention of his name, swallows his food and apologizes "sorry 'bout that, I'll get back to it in now if you like."

Mother Nature's apple red lips quirk, and her eyes brighten to a black more like smoky quartz. "It's alright," she says, "a day or two doesn't matter in the grand shceme I suppose." Jack's body slackens and he once again begins to eat with gusto.

Unhappily, Pitch grumbles "you're a liar," then gaze darting to the old man, it deepens as he hisses "you're both liars." North wants to look away ashamed, it's the appropriate response, but if he gives the child any indication...he'll use it. Mind drifting away, he absently thinks he could name another who uses emotions to get what she wants...

He's brought back to the world as Mother Nature talks, patting her lap, she comments "no matter." When Pitch scowls, she frowns and orders "come here." With some reluctance, Pitch approaches the woman until he's withing a hands reach of her green fingers. Hurtling forward, she snatches young Pitch from the floor and settles him in her lap.

The child squirms and growls, but the woman only gazes on fondly (how odd, how strange, North's mind whispers); combing her fingers through the shadow-locks, she hushes "calm down, you can't reach the table as it is." The boy bares his teeth; nevertheless, he fidgets until he's reasonably comfortable and lets Mother Nature put together a plate for him. Handing him a fork, the woman's mouth hints in a smile as she whispers "eat up." But, like the night before, he only pecks at his food.

Pushing the plate away, Pitch tilts his eyes upward and inquires "how long are you staying?" Her eyes meet North's across the table and he wants to beg her to stay forever because he loves her, yet he believes (knows) any interest the woman holds in him is due to misplaced attraction he cannot place. Pitch notices this longing stare between the two and feels his hackles rise for a reason he cannot name as a surge of protective instinct towards Mother Nature saturates his small body.

Eyes not wavering from North's, she answers quietly "when I am no longer needed."

Chomping down the last of his bacon, Jack-oblivious to any and every undertone-remarks around a mouthful of food "so like a few days?"

Mother Nature's lips churn in amusement. "Yes, something like that," she agrees.

Downing the glass of milk North presses into his hands, Jack questions, "So, um, how do you know Pitch and North anyway?"

Smiling suave, she tells him airily "it's quite the story."

"A long one" North nods,

Crossing his skinny arms, Pitch pouts "and it's none of your business."

Jack laughs, "whatever, I bet I hear it eventually." Getting up, he makes a grabbing motion for Pitch, which Mother Nature graciously obliges by handing the child off.

"Why don't you show him how to have a snowball fight" she suggests.

"I know what a snowball fight is!" The boy seethes.

Mother Nature perks a single fine eyebrow. "Know, not how" she says.

The teenager smiles, "don't worry, by the time I'm done with him he'll be a pro!" And with that the pair disappear from the kitchen.

When she's certain the boys are out of range, Mother Nature glances long-wise at the old man. "We need to be careful," she tells him, "Pitch may be a child, but he's not ignorant."

Scratching at his beard, North sighs. "Yes, you right, I keep forgetting; he's so young..."

"Only in appearance" the woman counters, then with an unreadable twist of her mouth, she murmurs "he's older than so many of us..."

Leaning in closely, North implore softly "how you know this?" She tosses her head side to side in a dismissive answer, but North can't allow it any more "you know! I know you know!" He grumbles.

Eyes drifting to the small cubby-hole of window where she can spy outside, the woman watches the tiny dark figure lob a snowball at the thinner, taller figure that is Jack Frost. "I do know" she agrees miserably. One hand coming to rake through her dark strands, she mumbles in a voice of pain and old aches "I know so much, but he..."

Anxious and worried, North barely waits a beat before demanding in quieted tones "He what?"

Lifting her head to stare at Nicholas St. North with stormy eyes of ancient sores and continuous hurts, she hiccups "But, he doesn't remember a thing!" Her admission follows with heartbroken sobs and in his haste to comfort her, North knocks his chair to the ground as he rounds the table to kneel beside her and bring her lean form into his thick arms. Sobbing into his neck, the woman weeps bitterly "papa! Papa! Why have you forgotten me?" North only squeezes her closer.


	7. VII

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for the kudos and comments guys! I appreciate it. :)

"C'mon Pitch!" Jack shouts, floating above him on a gust of wind, he drops an armful of snow on the boy causing him to roar out in anger.

Shaking off the cold substance, Pitch shakes his fist up at the teenager and cries out "I'll get you back Frost!" and in a spurt of youthful fury, he scoops up a loose handful of snow and throws it at the winter spirit; only to have it disperse in the wind as it whistles through the tundra. Laughing, Jack floats down beside Pitch and without asking for permission, takes Pitch's smaller hands in his and helps him pick up a fair amount of snow.

Cupping the little fingers, Jack explains to him patiently, "Like this," as he has the small hands shape the snow into semblance of a sphere. "See?" He shows retracting his hands away from Pitch's own. Gold eyes stare at the creation in surprised awe and Jack smiles in satisfaction, learning to make a snowball is a right of childhood passage as far as he's concerned. Abruptly, the little boy twirls around swiftly tossing the ball at his face; caught off guard, it splatters upon meeting his face and Jack cringes. Bringing a hand up, he wipes away the wet substance and murmurs with mischievous undertones, "Good one."

For the first time he can remember (maybe first in the history of _ever_ ), Jack hears Pitch giggle, it's pleased-quiet-but, _happy_. "I _did_ get you!" He smirks-so very proud-his tiny chest jutting out as struts towards the teenager in victory. The younger boy's joy is infectious and Jack finds himself giggling along with Pitch. Strangely weightless and euphoric from the sound of impossible laughter, Jack dives in; yanking Pitch to his chest as he dives down into the bedding of fine snow. Pitch squeals and wriggles to get away as Jack's fingers run up in down his prominent ribs; the boogeyman nearly slithers from his grip a couple of times, but Jack manages to pull the boy back in and attack him with vigour anew each time. "Jack! Jack!" Pitch shrieks, "I-I-" he gasps between breaths of air.

Seeing that Pitch can't go on much longer, Jack chuckles and releases the boy. But, instead of rolling away like he expected, Pitch stay laying on top of Jack-his energy seemingly spent. Gazing up at the perpetual night sky of winter, the boy whispers, "He watches even when we think he's not." Effectively breaking them from their silence as Jack's eyes dart to where Pitch's own no doubt rest; on the great nightlight which is the moon.

Lifting his head, Jack finds he can only spy the very tip of Pitch's nose from around his dark hair. "Who?" He asks, even though he know the answer.

"MiM" Pitch mutters, curling a bit closer to Jack.

"Well," Jack starts uncertain, "I don't know if I can forgive him, then, leaving me here all alone for three hundred years..." The teenager fades away, leaving a bitter taste in the air.

"You aren't the only one to ever be ignored" Pitch grumbles.

Skimming his hand over the thick locks, Jack Frost sighs. "No, I know."

"Let it go," Pitch advises, "because if you don't..." he trails off; however, neither of them needed Pitch to finish his thoughts, the 'you'll end up like me' settles heavily over them even without it being voiced.

"Jack! Pitch! M'boys time to come in!" North calls from the open door of his kitchen and with a deep, tired sigh Jack brings himself to his feet, little Pitch still held in his arms and for once, the boy doesn't protest the treatment.

Gazing down into golden orbs, he inquires "Ready?"

Pitch sniffs. "It doesn't much matter one way or the other, does it?"

Jack shakes his head and trudges through the snow to reach the beacon of warm light. When Jack steps into the cheery home; North's kind eyes resting on him and Mother Nature, partially hidden in a corner, her gaze sad, but fond (so _very_ fond) focused on both him and Pitch, Jack feels like he's come home. When Pitch's black tendrils tickle his chin and North beckons him towards the fire for a cup of hot chocolate with him and Mother Nature, Jack tries to remember if this is what family feels like. Falling into the worn, but comfortable chair, he rearranges Pitch so he's perched on his knees while they both take the mugs of chocolate given to them. Putting his own mug down, North, eyes alight and happy, implores, "Did you boys have fun?"

Taking his mugs from his lips, Jack finds himself smiling. "We did," somewhere inside him, his mortal self whispers to the young Guardian _this is home, this is family, this is **love**._


	8. VIII

Clearing the dishes from the table at North's request, Jack glances sideways to see the old man gazing on adoring as Mother Nature carries the sleeping boogeyman to the guest room. The look niggles at him in an unsettling way, ( _you_ know _that look,_ his mind murmurs) it's the same look he's seen parent's cast each other-oh. Face twisting into of timeless teenage repulsion, Jack blurts, "You and _Mother Nature_?"

North starts, blushing he tries to hide his face, but fails when Jack crowds him in an attempt to read him before he can hide the truth. Sighing his aggravation away, North grumbles lowly "I know Mother Nature _very_ long time, since _my_ beginning as immortal;" his eyes glint mischief as he finishes "I not be always this old, I aged slowly over years; stoping within the last century or so at this age."

Jack gapes. "Why?" He asks.

North shrugs with all of his arms. "Who knows? I don't."

"I've been around for _three_ whole centuries, I haven't gotten any older." Jack pouts.

Eyes twinkling, North chuckles. "You the embodiment of _fun,_ no one would think so if you as old as I!" Jack cracks a grin at this, it's kind of funny to try to imagine what he'd look like if he were as old as North, would he be as heavy too? Conceding to North's point with a giggle, Jack falls back a grin upon his face.

"Have you made contact anyone else yet? You know, other than Mother Nature?" He inquires, one curiosity to replace the other satisfied (as much as possible, anyway).

North seems to lose some of his shine as he looks away, "I haven't," he admits. Jack rolls his tongue, waiting for the begging question to be answered. Stroking his long beard, North shakes his head hooding his eyes and the emotions that lay their. "I fear..." he fades off for a moment, but he quickly regains his words as he marches on in deliberate tones. " Sandy may take okay-not much shake him-but the others, I can't say."

Jack feels his own shoulders slump and some of the hope and confidence he so naturally holds dissipate at the point. "Yeah," he frowns, "You're right." But, then gazing back up at the nation he says "We have to do _something_ , though."

"I know," North agrees, tone a bit irritated and indecisive; "I do," he reiterates.

"Then what are we going to do?" Jack implores, distressed and fearful of what may come for Pitch (he won't admit it, not _ever_ , but he sort of thinks the boogeyman's kind of _fun_ ).

"I don't know!" North snaps and Jack hurtles back, shocked and terrified at the negative emotions directed at him.

"I know," a voice behind whispers, soft and sad. Swivelling their heads, the two winter spirits see Mother Nature, her dark eyes stormy and arms cradling her middle in a sick sort of way; "I have an idea."

"What's that?" Jack questions, trying to not let it slip how hopeful he is to hear this.

Taking a deep breath, Mother Nature doesn't speak for a while. Her pearl white teeth nibble her red lips as she finally explains "I take him,"

"What!" Jack cries.

"What do you mean M?" North demands at the same time.

Glancing away, her garden green fingers claw into her pale arms; Jack could almost imagine they sprouted from the marble-toned flesh, they disappeared so seamlessly into the arm. Eyes glistening like rain-slick onyx, she whispers to them aching and raw. "He was _my father_ once," beseeching them with a cry not unlike a descending bird trill, she continues tears spilled and marring her skin to gray "I think- _I know-_ he could be again, he just-" she chokes now, soft kitten sobs falling from her as she desperately tries to regain composure. Quaking with emotion, she tells them, "If you could _convince_ them, I could-I could-keep him _safe_ for a while and-" Raising trembling arms to them, she fumbles as she bring her hands together; she holds them together for what seems like eternity as she keeps her wails barred behind tight lips. Opening her hands to the old man and teenager, they awe at the sight of a flower unlike any other sprouted from her green fingers. "Take it," she urges and with a hesitant glance between them, North does. It pulls from the green skin and Jack watches in horror as pain flashes across Mother Nature's eyes.

Seeing his wide eyes, the woman's lips warble into a sharp smile. "Most beauty is not without pain, Jack Frost," she imparts to him.

Yet, before Jack can ask anything of her, North is reeling with a gasp falling from his open mouth. Leaning in close, Jack sees hidden within the flower is a tiny gold frame, in that frame, is a man of fair skin and hair, eyes a reflection of blue pools. Yet, Jack recognizes him instantly; he's Pitch Black, but...not.

Brushing a tear from her eyes, Mother Nature gazes at them with terrified, but hopeful eyes, "He was a General," she whispers, "A _hero!_ " Face crumpling, she curls into herself hands splayed across her chest as if trying to keep her heart inside. "But," she mumbles, "But...he can't be if someone-"

Unable to bear her finishing the thought, Jack makes a decision. "Okay" he whispers, "Take him, keep him out-of-the-way and we'll.." He fades off waving his hand in a way only he himself knew the meaning of;Mother Nature's eyes grow to a huge size as she stares up in utter surprise.

Stumbling up to her feet, she takes a step forward; face pained, she begs, "Do you mean it?"

Sucking in a breath, Jack nods his head. "Yeah," he mutters.

He feels a solid hand enclose his narrow shoulder. "Jack-"

Not daring to look at North, Jack hisses,"I _mean_ it." Pausing, he thinks to add; "She _loves_ him." What he _doesn't_ say is all the more important, though, but why? They all know it, Mother Nature loves Pitch more than North, more than earth, more than the _galaxy_ ; if anything were to befall him in his time of vulnerability...Fear would not die, it would be inspired by nature it's self.

The smile Mother Nature gives, it doesn't speak of promises to come for failure, of destruction, of fear's end; only elation shines through at the trust they bestow. Leaning in close, she kisses his cool cheek and whispers " _Thank you,_ " falling back, she inquires, "Is there anything you wish for? Any thing I could do for you?"

"Let me say goodbye," Jack answers, voice only wavering slightly.

She looks back at him sadly, "It's not forever, sapling, just..." Trailing off when she cannot think of a justified answer.

Smirking something mean, Jack replies, "Until _we_ aren't the threat."

North's hand, the warm presence unshakable; squeezes his shoulder to the point of cracking. "It won't be long." Jack bite his tongue, doesn't tell him a second feels just as long a century when you're not wanted, when you're at best ignored, at worst _despised._

So, instead Jack just pulls away and suggests "Why don't I go say goodbye now?" Mother Nature steps aside, obliging him his whim with a bow of an arm. Walking out of the kitchen, he plods up the stairs at a pace he once thought fit only for old men. He never believed, not once, that he would come to feel all his years way down on him in a single momentous moment of despair. Finding the bedroom door, slightly ajar (allowing the smallest of slivers of light in, to keep the Nightmares away) Jack pushes in coming to fall beside the slumber child. Poking his shoulder gently, he calls "Hey wake up."

Pitch blinks open one gold iris (jack sees blue, he sees it so perfectly he think it _must_ be real), yawning, Pitch rubs a hand over his eyes. "What do you want Jack?"

"You're going away for a bit," he tells the boy; after a beat he adds "with Mother Nature."

Pitch frowns, little hand coming to rest on his own as he inquires, "Why?"

Picking up the hand, Jack runs his thumb from fingertip to wrist. "You'll be safer," he explains.

"From w-" his face scrunches miserably as he snaps his mouth shut. Jack doesn't dare look straight into the face, he know's cry if he does. "You think they'll try to hurt me." He states.

"I don't know," Jack says helpless, "but, I-" Swallowing down tears, Jack whispers "If I hadn't brought you up, you might have stayed safe."

Pitch snorts. "That's a lie," he snarls; "Anyone could have found me," he declares then everything about his quivers as he breathes "I'm just lucky it was you and not someone who-" Jack squishes him in a hug, effectively cutting off the rest of the sentence, he doesn't think he could stand it if Pitch gave him the truth (if only this once).

"Bye Pitch" Jack mumbles into the dark tresses.

"Bye Jack" Pitch answers back, little claws puncturing skin for all of a second as he scrambles to not lose himself in the hug and despair.

"Jack," Mother Nature's sorrowful voice calls to him from the doorway, "Pitch and I must go." She sighs and with a sniffling whimper, Jack gets up from the bed; Jack in his arms as he hands him off to Mother Nature.

"Take good care of each other," Jack orders.

Lip wobbling, Pitch echoes back at him, " _You_ take good care of each other." Jack Laughs and watches in boundless sadness and fear as Mother Nature and Pitch disappeared into the air. Wringing his hands, Jack prays to the Man in the Moon, begs him, _just once_ , to listen to him; _please, please, keep them **safe**._


	9. IX

 

Mother Nature finds herself pleased at the sight of Pitch's awed face, how much she must have surprised him for Pitch not to be able to hide it. Rustling a bush, a few butterflies dart out; however, Mother Nature captures one between her hands with practiced ease. Swaying over to Pitch-who stands still in the middle of the shaded clearing-she smirks. Kneeling down in front of the child, she catches all of his focus when she brings her hands up in offering. "Want to guess?" She teases.

Pitch scoffs. "No," he grumbles, crossing his little arms.

Mother Nature laughs and opens her fingers one by one, revealing the beauty that is the butterfly. Pitch gazes on, one hesitant claw coming to brush a tip of the bugs wing. It bats its wings and flies away, glancing up from her palms, Mother Nature sees disappointment on the boy's face. "There's more where that comes from," she tells him and then gesturing to the bushes and vines that surround them, she elaborates "We just need to coax them out." At the boy's troubled face, she wonders if he remembers teaching her how to do this when she was a girl, sighing, she thinks probably not. But, playing the optimist, she inquires, "Haven't you ever gone butterfly catching before?"

His young face scrunches and Mother Nature begins to turn away not willing to see his face when he tells her no. But, then, he surprises her by whispering, "I think so," eyes spiraling to something far inside himself, he murmurs, "Once, a long, long time ago." Watching him, Mother Nature wonders what memory has entrapped him; one of the many sunny days of his early childhood, in the fields of his family's hometown, with his sisters chasing sunny yellow butterflies before he was whisked away to the military academy? One of the few breaks in his combat training he spent with Mother Nature's mother running through forests, searching out and capturing butterflies camouflaged in the foilage? One of his wedding day, where a whole crate of butterflies was released while he and mother kissed? One from her childhood, when he was on leave and took her to the prairie behind their home to show her the best way to capture the critters?

Whatever memory played for him, it hurt, _it hurt so much_ , to think he could remember, but he couldn't remember her. "Well then," she mumbles, "Let's catch us some critters." Pitch lifts his head, eyes back in the present-glowing with a life she'd yet to see in the boy-when he smiles at her;

"Whoever catches the most wins!" He challenges and then he's off, flushing bushes and shaking branches to bring the butterflies out in the open. Taking a deep, calming breath, Mother Nature fixes a smile on her face and glides after the boy; snatching the delicate critters that fly out of Pitch's reach.

* * *

Turning down the offering of beverage, Toothiana smiles at the two winter spirits and asks the question that's been nagging at her and the other Guardians since the call for this emergency meeting. "So," she starts, "What have you called us for?" The old man and teenager share conspiratory looks, Toothiana feels her chest shrink; something big's happen and maybe-no definitely-not good. "North?" She calls, "Jack?" Tone verging on demanding when all she's met with is resisting silence.

"Spit it out!" Bunnymund grumbles, "I don't have time for this!"

Jack sighs and takes the center as he makes great show of collecting his thoughts. "I ran into a Nightmare a couple days ago," he narrarates; they gasp, but if Jack's twinkling eye is anything to go by, he was expecting it. "I followed it and wouldn't you know it? I ended up in the boogeyman's lair."

Bunnymund's up in an instant. "Did that bastard hurt ya?" He snarls.

Jack holds up a hand. "No," he soothes and then, hair flopping forward as he droops he murmurs, "I _did_ find him."

"Oh Jack," Toothiana murmurs sympathetically.

The frost spirit shakes his head, "No, it was okay," he pauses, correcting himself, "It _is_ okay."

"If he didn't hurt ya, what did he do?" Bunnymund scowls, tapping his foot in irritation.

Jack glares at them. "He didn't do anything," at their disbelieving stares, Jack continues in hushed tones. "I found him, he was a little kid, and I brough him here."

Gasps filled the air, "You _didn't_!" Toothiana hissed, "He's _evil_!"

Jack plucked at his sweatshirt, carefully not making eye contact with anyone. "I don't know about that," he says to them, raising his eyes to meet all of theirs, Jack continues, "Maybe he's mean, maybe he's angry, but I don't think he's evil."

Bunnymund, sour in face, glares at the teenager. "You don't know what you're talking about," he growls, "You've only ever faced him once!"

Jack flinches back, but with daring he argues further. "No one's evil! No one starts out bad!" He shouts at the other Guardian, slumping back he whispers, "They just _can't_." Sandy who up until the silence that regins, could not get a word in edge wise, blasts a question mark and an image of Pitch in the air; Jack blinks, question mark, Pitch, _where's Pitch?_ "He's not here if that's what you're asking." Jack glowers, arms tucking into his sides in a defensive gesture.

Toothiana frowns, if Pitch's not here...where is he? "Wait, he's not _here_?" Toothiana frowns, "Then why are _we_ here?"

North decides to speak. "Pitch go with Mother Nature-"

"Mother Nature!? She's just as crazy as he is!" Bunnymund yowls.

Glowering at Bunnymund, North wags a finger at him. "She's not crazy." Chuffing an irritated breath, he goes on to say, "Now, we need help to keep Pitch safe from more _vindictive_ souls."

Bunny scoffs. "He deserves everything that's coming to him."

Jack startles at this. "No he doesn't!" He cries, "He's a _kid_ we're supposed to protect kids!" Unsettling quietness follows the exclamation, it begins to sink in with sickening realization that Jack's right. They _have_ to protect that brat or they wouldn't be worthy of calling themselves Guardian's of Childhood.

"Damn," Bunnymund grumbles, "Got us there, don't ya?"

Jack's mouth lifts in a hesitant smile, hope wanting to surface in his eyes; though, he tames it down. "You mean you'll help?" He demands, searching and probing them with distrustful glances.

Toothiana answers for all of them. "If that's what needs to be done," she sighs.

North and Jack grin. "Good! When M comes back I tell her that she and Pitch can come back." North imparts to them.

"She's staying here too, then?" Bunnymund asks wearily.

Santa shrugs. "Comes and goes," He replies.

"Great, just, great" Bunnymund groans and runs a hand over his ears. "I'm beginning to regret coming to this."


	10. X

When he first weighs his eyes upon the little whisper shying behind the lushness that creates Mother Nature's gown, Bunnymund takes in the sight of the boy; the aged gold that are his irises, the crookedness to his sloped nose, the thinned out line of his mouth. All in all, E. Aster Bunnymund is at a loss, he _knows_ the child's a danger, a threat, but as he is...those big eyes express and inspire the same that any child he's ever crossed has. Bunnymund hears Jack enter the kitchen, listens in disbelief as he exclaims his joy and watches as those solemn gold eyes glow and warm with emotion Bunnymund was _certain_ the Nightmare King couldn't know; sees him step from the safety of Mother's Nature's skirts. Bunnymund feels his heart accelerate, what's the child _doing_?! Doesn't he know Bunnymund is a danger? Doesn't the spirit of fear _feel_ fear? Doesn't he realize with a single swipe of his weighted paw, Bunnymund could break his spindly neck effectively eradicating fear? But, before the Boogeyman's without armour, Jack's there, whisking the boy into his arms. Bunnymund furls and unfurls his paws, glances to Mother Nature, sees her eyes veiled and empty of any emotion worth noting; however, in a matter of a moment, it all changes, Mother Nature feels his eyes and her beetle-black eyes sharpen as they settle on him conveying sharp, knife-like intentions.

"Bunnymund! Bunnymund!" Jack calls, nearing with Pitch perched tall on his shoulders. Grinning at the large Pooka, the boy says (asking, really) "He's not so intimidating like this is he?"

Pitch fusses, nimble fingers tugging and twisting Jack's winter locks; staring at the boy, then the teenager, and lastly at the woman with ire still in her eyes he murmurs "No, not as much." Jack grins something amazing, the negative intent coming to him in waves dissipates and Pitch frowns, in a small, yet thoughtful way.

"I don't scare you any more, do I?" The little boy inquires in a voice subdue.

The Pooka doesn't answer right away. He's still feels fear around Pitch, but, this time, it isn't the selfish kind of fear for one's self, he feels fear of a different kind; the kind he felt when the children were under the Boogeyman's looming threat, it's fear _for_ Pitch (and that's not right, it's _not,_ no one's threatening Pitch and why should he care if they do?). A tremor of the tiniest kind runs through Bunnymund and around his dry mouth and squeezed throat, he whispers earnest. "You do scare me."

Pitch squints his gold eyes and assesses Bunnymund with a doubtful eye. "Oh," he mumbles, seemingly unable to find a response. Mother Nature, who's stood back, stayed silent, chooses now as the best time to separate them. Coming up behind Jack, she loops her hands around Pitch bringing him down from the thin shoulders to set back on the ground.

Smoothing his hair back in a nervous motion, she kneels down layers of earthbound colors melding and meshing as she orders to the Nightmare King, "You don't let go of my hand, not until I let go of yours got it?"

Jack's lips flicker down. "Chill," he suggests, "It's just North, Sandy and Tooth."

The woman's sends him a glare that promises more than a storm. "I may have been unable to stop that Nightmare from showing you his location, I may have not been quick enough to react as you brought him here, but never- _ever-_ think I do not prioritize Pitch's safety at the top of my list."

Putting his hands up in exasperated defeat, Jack pushes the corners of his mouth up. "I get it, okay, mama bear 'instincts' and all that." He jokes poorly.

Bunnymund doesn't understand, doesn't know why Mother Nature feels such protection for Pitch-fear-no one else does. Pitch, though, absorbs everything around him; accepts it and decides. "Okay," he agrees putting those imp like claws in the woman's hand as the little group takes the leap into the unknowns of the next room.

They are all sitting in their seats around the hearth, tense and silent. North's the first to act, with slow, measured, actions he settles his stare wholly on Mother Nature and grins, (there's more there, he can _feel_ it the very spines of his tail hairs) "Hullo, we hear you come in," he explains to the woman, she bows her head dark hair reflecting canyon red from the flame's light. Gesturing to a chair beside Toothiana, the old man offers "You take a seat?"

Bunnymund's eyes inch to the Guardian of Memories, her fingers curve sharply into the fabric of her chair's arms; however, she remains neutral of face and almost inviting with the way her eyes glimmer from the fire's brightness. "I'm fine." The woman tells him in clipped tones.

North scowls, shifting in his seat, North growls, "Come now, no one do the boy harm with you, me and Jack here!"

Mother Nature's eyes blaze with their own fire. "I don't know that, I take little part in you Guardian affairs" she hisses at him.

Some of the tension drains from North. "You watch, you see, we good people-" at Mother Nature's sharp glare, North hastily continues, "Basically-you help us before, least we can do is not hurt him." He finishes, satisfied with himself.

Mother Nature relents, with a grievous sigh, she walks with long elegant strides to the chair-Pitch nearly jumping to keep up-falling into the mismatched armchair, she lifts Pitch from the ground settling the boy in her lap. Seeing that the confrontation's settled for the time, Jack and Bunnymund hurry to return to their seats as they begin to discuss;

"...I don't think I expected him to be so-" Toothiana begins, but stops herself with a click of her teeth.

Caressing a green finger down his cheek, Mother Nature's lips tweak. "Yes, you're right." she agrees. Pitch wriggles, objecting in silence only.

Bunnymund, from his seat closest to the fireplace asks "Can he still use nightmare sand?"

Pitch glares, lifting his pallid hands, he holds out a dark malleable substance with a sneer. "Does this answer your question?" Bunnymund feels his heart thud as the sand takes the shape of running, snapping, greyhounds; "I'm _weak_ not powerless." The child snarls.

Jack, from his placement from beside North, drawls, "Well, _someone_ sounds cranky. What did you two do M?"

Smirking in her closed off way, Mother Nature answers in ambiguous words. "Just a little contest Frost."

Making a grabbing motion, Frost inquires, "Want me to take him to bed?"

Pitch makes an angry noise. "I don't need sleep! I need to be _here_! I _know_ we're going to discuss me!" He declares, "I _deserve_ to know what you say about me!" He shouts. As Pitch's breath hitches and his little fists ball, unwanted tears slips down his wan face, he spits "I'm _tired_ of not getting to choose what happens to me! I'm not a _child_! I've _existed_ longer than all of you have been _alive_!" The boy devolves into more tears and clamps down sobs as he stutters "I-I _need_ to know! I c-can't stand not h-having say!"

"F-Pitch" Mother Nature hushes, trying and failing to grab the shaking fists as he fights her. "It's okay, let us take care-"

" _NO_!" Pitch roars, "I'm capable of thought! I-I _know_ I could come up with a better solution than all of you if you'd _let_ me!" Bunnymund watches the thin body resist the lean, stronger one that is Mother Nature, sees her face twist with distress and fright.

"Please-" She begs, yet stops as Sandy approaches, her dark eyes growing in size. In the stout man's hand is a handful of golden sand; Pitch feeling the struggle take a turn just a moment late, can only swerve his head to see the dream-sand hit him.

"No-" but, he's halted abruptly as sleep droops his dark lashes, makes his body let go and drop into Mother Nature's hold. As he takes his first, long breath of peaceful sleep, the golden sand above his head shapes to butterflies flying away and then it comes together again to morph into a familiar-if not youthful-face of Mother Nature. A hand comes to the woman's mouth and a gasp resounds from behind her hand as tears like jewels drop from her eyes. Bunnymund understand's something then, in the quiet, he knows there's more to Pitch, there's something not made from fear; there's something in him that can recall happiness and give him sweet dreams.

Mother Nature makes a noise like a whimper, eyes shifting upward from Pitch to her, the Pooka sees something human-mortal-in her that's ancient and pained, yet from the determined glow of her eyes, he acknowledges that there's hope there too. Rubbing away the beads of tears from her face, the woman takes back her regal composure; Pitch cradled in her capable hands. "That," she starts, "Was not a sweet dream, that, my dear Guardians, was a memory," tapping at her chest, she stops gathering her courage to whisper to them a secret older than Earth itself; "A memory I cherish in my heart, a memory of a man I called my father."


	11. XI

Running his fingers through the dark, midnight hair, Jack gazes at the waif body of Pitch Black. He likes him, really he does, but...if he's himself again scaring children and trying to bring a dark age down on Earth, what is he going to do? Pretend _this_ hadn't happened? Pretend he'd never been so vulnerable, pretend he hadn't ever cared for him? _Hate_ him? No, Jack doesn't think that's possible to do, not anymore. Retracting his hand, Jack sighs. "See you when you wake up Pitch," he murmurs, taking a step back, he turns and hurries back to North's study; he's _so_ not missing Mother Nature's epic spectacular! Closing the door all but a sliver, Jack doesn't notice that not a drop of the hallways light seeps into the bedroom.

In the stillness, the dark shifts and twists; however, it avoids the beams of moonlight running along the edges of the lights path. Pitch, begins to stir. The darkness takes shape, gradually, it morphs in to a shape not unlike a man's. It stands beside the bed, leaning over, it scrutinizes the tiny Nightmare King. Pitch whines in his sleep and attempts to scoot away, but the shadows surround the child holding him in place as the shadow man focuses harder on the Boogeyman. Pitch pants and twists, wriggles and whimpers, but it's not until his golden eyes pop open and a scream strangles on his lip that the shadow figure disappears. Eyes roving the room in weary uncertainty, Pitch attempts to find what poisoned his mind with nightmares. Slowly, he sinks back against the bed whispering to himself, "Not real, none of it was real.."

But, somewhere, a man of shadows recounts his tale to a monkey king.

* * *

Perching herself in an armchair, Mother Nature gazes at nothing as she disconnects herself from the story she's about to tell. Following several shallow breaths, the woman inhales through her nose as she forces her eyes to meet each of the Guardians' one by one; they stare back, hungry anticipation in their eyes, daring her to make up a story worthy of redeeming Pitch. Mother Nature, though, has no plans to excuse Pitch, no thoughts on ways to win their sympathies, all she wants is to explain to them, explain how a mortal becomes a creature such as Pitch Black. Kneading the wrinkles from her lap, Mother Nature doesn't meet a single look as she starts her story;

"Once, a very, _very_ , long time ago, there was a honorable general named Kozomotis Pitchiner, he was the greatest of the great, Leader of the Golden Armies; he struck fear _in_ fear. After a campaign to gather up all the fear of the universe and lock it away, he volunteered to Guard the prison; to ensure the safety of those within the Lunanoff Empire. In doing so he sacrificed his own life-sacrificied of ever seeing his daughter again-but, you see, he loved his home _so so much_ , he wanted to protect everyone." She pauses then, lifting her eyes to see everyone frowning at her in a way that bellied confusion, but slowly, realization, was dawning on them bit by bit. Taking a soft breath, she brings a hand to her collar and pulls a chain from beneath her bodice.

"I was just a young girl when he first promised his life to watching fear," showing them the picture of herself within her locket, she carefully keeps the one of Kozomotis covered with her thumb. "He kept his post for nearly seven years, alas-" She stops as her heart throbs, this part of the story always hurts the most; to think, he could still be as he was-the strong and loyal general-if she hadn't been his weakness..."The fearlings, they tricked him, they wore him down, they lead him to believe his young daughter was with them within the prison, taunted and dared him. Pitchiner, he withstood it for days but...he had to check, had to make _sure_ his most beloved citizen-his _daugher-_ was not in the fearlings grasp."

Heart pounding and eyes stinging with tears unquenched, Mother Nature presses on with a stubborn need to finish. "He went into the fearlings' cage, they surrounded him, they devoured him from the inside out, they destroyed Kozmotis Pitchiner, created him in their image, made the king of Nightmares, the boogeyman, _Pitch Black_." She finishes in a hiss, anger and sorrow never quite healed, forgiveness not quite found.

Faded in color, Toothiana is the first to murmur, "Oh my..."

Squirming restlessly in his seat, Bunnymund tries to find the words to reply. "That's not-it shouldn't-"

"What happened to my father, it shouldn't have, but it did and I've learned to live with it." Mother Nature bites, vicious and feral, "There's nothing that will ever change that," catastrophes and destruction singing in her blood, Mother Nature rises restlessly to her feet; pacing she makes to leave when Jack Frost grabs hold of her wrist.

Eyes earnest and big he whispers, "I'm sorry."

Mother Nature blinks. "What?" She finally asks numbly.

"I'm _sorry_." Jack repeats sadly, "No one should have gone through what you did."

Mother Nature chuckles humorlessly. "I don't think anyone's ever felt sorry for me, after all _I'm_ not the one who lost myself." She remarks bitter and true.

Jack hugs her. "Well, then, I'm the first and that counts for something, doesn't it? I'm sorry it happened to you and I'm sorry about what happened to your dad."

Mother Nature sinks into the hug, rooting her green fingers in the expanses of blue fabric. "You know what the worst part of it all is?" Jack only pets her long dark locks of hair. "The worst part is that it's my _father's_ face I see, every time I see fear, I see him and I _hate_ it. He was honor, he was bravery, he was _hope_ , to see that-that _monster,_ wearing his face...it's a _mockery_ of what father stood for." Mother Nature concludes.

No one knows what to say, so the room stays silent.


	12. XII

The Morning following, everyone finds themselves keenly aware of Mother Natures's cool behavior towards Pitch, but the one most aware, is Pitch himself. Perplexed at the abrupt change in treatment, Pitch shadows her-or at least until she's chasing him off with scowls-and once he even snatches her verdant fingers in his small hold only for her to slip away. The pain that flits over the wan face makes Jack's chest throb, he knows Mother Nature's raw, but it's not fair of her to let it come between the fragile bond she had with Pitch. Unable to bear the clouding of gold eyes, Jack offers an arm to the boy. "How about we make some snow angels?" He inquires.

Dully, the boy drills, "I am not a child."

Jack scoffs and snags the younger around the waist and lifts him from the floor. "Yeah right! I bet you just don't want to admit you don't know how!" Jack laughs and amidst the whines and little claws trying to gauge his eyes, he finds away out the door.

Toothiana with a pitiless murmur says to Mother Nature, "You can't treat him that way."

With sudden fire; Mother Nature is towering over the petite woman, the Guardians of Memories has to keep from cowering-obviously the ability to strike fear runs in her blood the same as it does Pitch-her face twisted and thundering, Mother Nature growls, "You have _no right_ to judge _._ "

Stepping in, North places one large hand on Mother Nature's sharp shoulder. "Come now, calm down," he advises, but like a twister, she's out from beneath his grip and all her anger redirected on him.

"You have no more right!" She cries, single betwixting finger pointed at his heart.

North with sudden clarity, says to his remain occupants, "Go for now, I deal with this."

Bunnymund is a rare display of uncertainty, wrings his paws and tells his friend doubtfully. "I don't know mate..."

With a quick smirk and lazy wave of his hand, the old man reassures them. "I'll be fine, everything will be fine."

With a nervous flutter of her wings, Toothiana mumbles, "If you're absolutely certain..."

North chuckles and nods. "I am."

"If you need us..." Bunnymund trails off and with little fanfare and a grandiose amount of trust, the last of the two Guardians leave (Sandy having left to give sweet dreams to children following Mother Nature's confession). North flashes a smile and takes a step in front of Mother Nature drawing her eyes to him.

Once the room is empty, North places one hand on Mother Nature's marble cheek. "Now, what's really got you so upset?" Mother Nature stares into his eyes and makes no effort to respond. Thick finger brushing the apple-red lips, he watches her eyes dilate and his breath hitches as those skinny arms wind themselves around his waist. Without any prompting, the woman snatches his chapped lips in a kiss and thrusts her tongue into his mouth. Surprised, (but not displeased), the old man recorporates and twines his tongue with hers; deepening the kiss. When one of those expert fingers snakes their way under his coat, North cannot help but remember what his true purpose is. Abruptly tugging away, he glares sternly at Mother Nature and says to her, "No, I will not let you get out of the question;" the woman seems to wilt under his gaze, "What's made you upset?" He demands.

Tears crystallizing in those beetle-black depths, she makes her lip quiver in the most delightful way as her spidery fingers run up and down his chest in a distracting way. "Please, Nicholas..." She whimpers, planting kiss upon kiss upon his jaw.

North with tender care detaches her from him. "No avoiding the question, M." He tells her softly.

With a far from delicate snarl, Mother Nature yanks herself away and in a fit of passion roars, "I hate you Nicholas St. North!"

Not yet discouraged, North simply shrugs. "Then leave," he suggests. Mother Nature wavers, fingers laying themselves upon her lips (they compliment each other in the most aesthetic fashion, North thinks), uncertainty dancing upon her countenance and doubt flooding into her eyes, North makes an educated remark. "You don't want to."

"I do!" She counters, "I do..." she repeats voice fading as her eyes do the same.

"No," North replies with a shake of his head, "I don't think you do," he restates.

Quaking and shivering, her spring-green fingers intertwine in his offered ones; "I thought I had it under control..." She mutters to him.

"What under control?" He implores softly.

"He looked so different, so _little_ , I thought surely I couldn't see him as my father any longer..." Then with stuttering breath she continues, "But now, I keep see my father in his sprouting features, his gestures, his glances..."

Hugging the woman to him, the old man offers, "You go take time-go collect yourself-comeback, we keep him safe for you."

Raising her head, Mother Nature places one adoring kiss upon the apple of his cheek and sighs. "You are far too kind," she tells him.

Eyes glinting impishly, North reminds her, "One of my best traits." She chortles and pulls away, with one last smile, she disappears from the room in a swirl of winds and clouds. Getting up from the floor, North is filled with thoughts and fantasies to fulfill upon Mother Nature's return, but as soon as he falls into them, he's pulled from them by a frightened cry;

"North! They got him!" Panting and terrified, Jack wails, "The shadows just dragged him down into the darkness and I couldn't stop them!"

Pale and worried, North's first thoughts are more selfish than he'll ever admit to; _what will M say when she finds out what happened?_


	13. XIII

Pitch screams as the shadow hands slither up his body, reaches for Jack as they pull him under, struggles to grasp Jack's winter white fingers, yet his hand slips right through like the shadows pulling him down, (but did you really expect different? After all, you _are_ one of them). Tears gleam in his eye unbidden as they choke off his breath, drag him into the depths of unconscious. Soon, all Pitch knows is the fading white expanses as he falls into the dark.

* * *

When he wakes, it's in the smothering darkness of caverns he knows as home; however, the underground corridors don't feel like home any longer. There are no bodies protecting his under quilts, nor hands offering sweets drenched in sugars of green and red and expressive beetle-black eyes and lilting apple red lips that warm him from the chest out are nowhere to be found. Sitting up, he unknowingly scrape his nails across the brick floors amid alerts the shadows to his awakening. The shadows churn, the sweep in, surround pitch-guiding him-in a direction of their choosing. Pitch tries to break away once, but with prodding edges they force him back; Pitch scowls and decides to let them take him where they want (he's too scared to try a second time). They lead him down the winding halls, the few torches lining the walls casting orange on his pallid skin, the shadows shrink back then and again, he wishes he had a way to reach the lights. It-unfortunately-is not feasible, they take a sharp turn and Pitch's chest begins to hammer.

He remembers this place, remembers what lurks, bides its time, The Monkey King. Pitch stops, but the shadows lift him from his feet; hoist him into the dismal pit he gave the creature _centuries_ ago. He falls in with a choked back scream and when he lifts his head from the stone floor he looks into a plethora of twisted faces. Pitch scrambles to his feet and tries to back up, but there are more behind him. A screeching holler echoes against the stone walls, and some of the monkeys clear away for the largest of them to come through. He smiles at Pitch (it makes him shiver, whatever The Monkey King has planned for him will not be pleasant), Pitch turns, tries to throw himself the brutes, but they grab him with thick fingers and chide him with the brute force of their hairy knuckles. Pitch flinches as they force him to stare at the primate king. With heavy hand, the king stretches his gangly arm out and pats Pitch's thin cheek.

"No longer a king I see," he rumbles, "Not even a prince!" He chuckles then, "No, you're _nothing_." It sneers and Pitch shrinks into himself, hoping that The Monkey King will just slit his throat and be done with him. " _But,_ " He interjects, "But...you might have use yet" He purs tracing his fingers along Pitch's sharp contours. "Yes, yes useful still..." He finishes back away a dazed look filling his face.

Pitch thrashes when the primates' king pulls his sword from his belt raising it in the air to glint menacing in the ember glows. "No!" He screams struggling to get away, he doesn't want to die, _he doesn't want to die_!

A awkward fist swings at him, subduing him with a spray of light behind his eyes. "Shut up!" The Monkey King Howls, "You dumb, useless, _child_!" The kings' subjects shrieks their laughter, woof their praise and pound their fist on the floor. Pitch curls into a ball and vaguely realizes the beasts have released him. His head hurts. He can't see clearly. In the faint light, he sees the sword glimmer for moment before he's screaming as the sword slices into his arm, he cries silver tears and begs for the king to stop, but he doesn't not until his arms dribbling a steady stream of blood. The primate backs away leaving Pitch to protect his injured arm and head, his sensitive ears pick up the rustle of paper and suddenly, his arms ripped from his chest and squeezed, causing even more pain to his heightened nerves as blood is forced out.

"Stop!" He wails yanking his arm back with all his might, all he's rewarded with is another rattling hit to the head before his limp arm's tossed back at him.

"Good, good..." The Monkey King murmurs, "Once they see this, they'll _have_ to come, meet my demands..." He's talking to himself, it's all fuzzy to Pitch, what could his demands be? What could the beast possibly want that he doesn't already have? It nonetheless riles unease in him.

"...W-What demands...?" Pitch whispers, the beast's eyes are drawn to him and it gives him a smirk that's all teeth.

Reaching down, he picks Pitch's unresisting body up in his arms and cradles him like he's a treasure. "Why, to turn us human once more, of course," The Monkey King coos at the little Nightmare King.

Pitch struggles for clarity in his bogged down mind. "Human? I said I'd find you a way..."

The primate's blunt fingers constrict Pitch's chest causing him to squeak discomfort. "You've abandoned us and our plight to the outer reaches of your lair, you never had interest in fixing us! You just wanted us at your beck and call!" He roars in his face, drenching him in spittle and fowl smells.

"I was working on it! I was..." Pitch exclaims.

"Really?" The king sneers, "Where is your proof?"

Pitch wriggles in the ever stronger hold as the pain of his injuries fight to pull him into dreamless sleep. "It wasn't easy-"

"excuses!" The Monkey King belows and his subjects match him with anguished and enraged calls. "You will be my bribery and there's no way you will convince me otherwise!" The beast hisses at Pitch and the child shudders in the kings hold as the pain finally drags him under. There's nothing he can possibly do to persuade the monkey at this point, hopefully, the Gaurdians' will know to give up on a lost cause like him...


	14. XIV

Tugging his beard, North doesn't say much of anything while Jack fidgets, the teenager opens his mouth and makes a beginning sound when North speaks. "I go call everyone back," He exhales.

Sprinting in front of the husky man, Jack asks "Do you mean Mother Nature too?"

North hesitates. "I-" he stops, seemingly considering something of importance. "You think she be more mad if we don't call her first?" He questions.

Jack waves his arms up in a spastic gesture. " _You're_ the one who's _dating_ her!" He cries.

North smiles. "Ah, yes," he agrees, "M is very unpredictable, it's always good to have another opinion." The old man explains to Jack.

The frost spirit frowns. "I don't know why you'd _wait_ to tell her, she's going to maim us either-just tell her last," Jack concludes in a decisively pleading manner.

North runs his hand over his head and nods. "Yes," he agrees, "Good choice, give us time to gather everyone and plan first."

Jack relaxes and with a quick upturn quirk he offers, "I'll find Sandy, yeah?"

North smiles grimly and descends in acknowledgement. "Yes, I find Bunnymund and Tooth."

Skirting back towards the door, Jack squirms and remarks. "They'll just be in their homes."

"I know," North murmurs absently watching as the thin boy is snatched from the doorway by the winds and taken into the night. Turning his attention to the elves huddled just outside the room and the Yeti's gathered behind them, the old man demands. "Bring me my swords and tell E. Aster Bunnymund and Toothiana to prepare for battle...I think an old enemy of Toothiana's learned of our _guest's_ status."

The creatures disperse leaving North to fall into a chair and give a weary groan, rubbing a thumb at the spot between his brows, North grumbles, "Why must you find more trouble than Jack does, where you go Pitch?" Flickering his eyes to the door, he hopes Sandy will know to keep Jack occupied for a while as he and the other discuss battle, while the boy had been included in defeating Pitch, they had never planned to eradicate him (or believed they could), but the Monkey King...well, no child would be worse off without.

* * *

When everyone exempting Mother Nature's been brought together, North makes a decision to call the woman to him. Reaching beneath his jacket, he pulls a single coiled rose out into the open and blows on it. The rose unfurls with unnatural speed, startling and confusing his allies, but North pays little attention because suddenly, Mother Nature steps from nothing and into the room with a quiet swish of her billowing skirts. Her beetle-black eyes find his, they hold no small amount of perplexment; however, the fear in them wins out.

"Where's Pitch?" She demands.

"The shadows took him," North answers, not daring to hide or lessen any truth.

The woman's fine marble feature warp into that of a hags as anger flares in those black eyes like a promising storm, her lips he'd always consider apple-red appear more and more blood-red and her dark hair curls hither and thither as wind invades the small kitchen. North watches passively as his guests cry out shock and struggle to find safety in their seats, he expects her to leave; send rain, hail, hurricanes, typhoons upon mankind. But, _but,_ she stays and she _roars;_ she shakes the earth with her anguish and makes it _known._ Let it never be said Mother Nature did not love, for all her wonton behavior, for all her impish and cruel choices, she does care for those under her favor.

"Stop!" Jack yells among the chaos, fighting to near the woman. "Stop it! You'll destroy the world before we can even _save_ him!" He shouts, those dark eyes turn wicked and mean on Jack.

"Do you not know little Jack Frost? I made a promise, I promised I would bring this earth I claimed as mine if anything irreversible happened to my father; promised _myself_ I would die right along with him!"

"He's not dead yet!" Jack argues with a passion much to warm for his nature.

"You think we shall reclaim him from those beasts whole? Whole as he was before?" Mother Nature challenges with beady black eyes.

"Better!" Jack declares, "We'll show him our strength, show him how worthwhile being a Guardian is! He'll become one of us then!" The boy explains to the woman, quietly, he adds "He'll _have_ to."

Mother Nature frowns, the trembles dissipating to nothing more than the occasional ripple. "Guardian? Who's filled this boy's mind with such notions?"

Sandy, cracks a sand whip upon the table drawing all's attention to him; with exaggerated expression, he points out the window to the glowing moon. The woman's lips thin, "Impossible." She huffs.

"It's true!" Jack cries, "He told Sandy and me! He even told us where Pitch is!"

Eyes narrowed in great distrust, Mother Nature comes to lord over the willowy teen and hisses. "Where is Pitch Black?"

Tapping his head, Jack whispers. "I can show you."

Grabbing the boy's wrist, Mother Nature squeezes it much stronger than necessary. "You will," she agrees, leaning in, she growls, "Right now."

Jack's eyes shimmer like ice, smirk jagging across his frost-white countenance, he thrusts his face forward, nose to nose with Mother Nature. "Of course," he whispers.

"We come with!" North grunts, coming to stand just hardly touching beside the pair.

Mother Nature and Jack blink, seemingly torn from whatever spell of passion drew them together. Turning her head, Mother Nature reaches out one green-tinged hand to lay on North's ruddy cheek. "Of course my bandit," she mutters.

North's crystalline blue eyes meet hers with old love. "My hero," he whispers to her. Jack coughs, the woman and old man fall back with jerky actions that would suggest scalding heat otherwise.

"Are we going or what?" Bunnymund demands stressed from the other side of the room.

Mother Nature smiles at him. "All in good time my Pooka," she croons.

The rabbit shifts, the woman agitates in a way that is far too pleasing, he thinks (nothing innocent, for that matter). "Yeah, well."

Abruptly, the door opens with a clatter and from the dark, howling, wind a scrap of paper flutters into the toasty kitchen. Jack picks it up, unfolding the sheet, his face pales as he reads. Holding the letter out, (is that blood at the bottom?) he utters with a shakey breath, "You guys, he's saying he'll slit Pitch's throat if we don't make them human by the end of the week."

A strangled noise comes from Mother Nature and North reaches out, holding her steadfast. Bunnymund grinds his teeth, the developments aren't- _unexpected-_ but, that doesn't mean they were accepted. Pulling at an ear, he glances over to the colorless of face Toothiana and frowning Sandman; at least no one's a newbie this time.


	15. XV

It's the screams and hollers, the clattering and clashing of weapons that stir him out of his slumber. Blinking in the darkness, he can see a the flames outside the room flicker; shifting, he realizes the fearlings have deserted. The boy marvels for a moment as he slips out of the inky depths and into the middle of the room, all by his own power. A smile jagging across his worn face, he melts into the shadows he once ruled and drifts from the room. Floating down the hall, he glimpses monkeys wounded and dead strewned carelessly around, shadows flicker, fearlings shrink and fluctuate. Pitch passes them all by, he gathers the fear oozing from them- _consumes_ it-the destruction doesn't seem to end.

Gliding down a particularly dim hall, he sees Toothiana, swords in hand slicing through fearlings that shoot out and others that try to slink away; Pitch moves on. Finding another corridor, he takes in the sight of E. Aster Bunnymund viciously tearing into monkeys left and right, Pitch pauses and soaks in the fear from this particularly brutal assault. His body thrums with a strength he hasn't felt in ages; it feels longer, leaner, as he withdraws from this hall for a different one. Sinking deeper into his lair, he sees Sanderson Mansnoozie and Jack Frost back to back lashing out at particularly vindictive fearlings-keeping them away from the corridors ahead of them-Pitch frowns and tries to understand who could be further in the bowels of his sanctuary. Nicholas St. North, maybe, but, why? Sliding past the pair, he continues his descent.

He finds his way into the Monkey King's hide-away, he gapes at the sight, Mother Nature-so tall, so proud-stands shoulder to shoulder with Nicholas St. North, each holding a sword point straight at the beast king. "It's only a matter of time before we find him." North murmurs to the creature.

The king sneers, "So? He's dead already."

Mother Nature tenses. "You're _lying_."

The monkey gives a whooping laugh. "Why would I need to lie?" North frowns and Mother Nature scowls. Pitch slinks around in the shadows, now just a foot away he takes in the trio, none of them are moving, none wavering from their stance. Suddenly, the primate pulls a dagger from his body and with surprising speed strikes out, nearly catching Mother Nature's throat. Something glimmering flies from her neck and North retaliates in the pause; his sword sinking into the Monkey King's chest.

With a howl, the king's fingers enclose around the sharp metal as he attempts to yank it from him, but his eyes dull and he collapses to the stone floors in a lifeless pile. No one moves. The sword clasped in Mother Nature's hand clinks to the floor and her hand comes to cover the laughter intermingled with sobs pouring from her lips. North reaches for her, brings her into his mass and kisses her on the mouth. Pitch gazes on, mind spinning, heart flaring with strange feelings.

Shaking his head, he turns away and scours the floor for the necklace that once rested around the woman's neck. In the shadows, he spies aged gold; smiling he hurries towards it. Inspecting it closer, he realizes it's in two; sighing, he picks it up hoping he can put it back together when he sees the two pictures on the other side.

A man and girl, but it's the man that makes his head throb. It's _Pitch_ , but it's _not_ ; where Pitch is dark, he is fair, where he frowns, the man smiles, while his eyes are cold and unrelenting, the man's are warm and adoring. Images claw and scramble out of the depths of his mind, stumbling, he falls from the darkness he hid himself. Presses his hands to his head, he feels his fingers puncture skin as a girl's voice comes to him;

" _Papa!_ "

" _Papa help me!_ "

" _Papa save me!_ "

" _Don't you **love** me papa?!"_

Eyes of crystalline blue appear in his mind's eye, they are pleading, tear-filled things of torture and Pitch, he can't help himself.

"Seraphina*!" He roars and suddenly, darkness surrounds him, invades him, shatters him from the inside out. " _Noooo!_ " He shrieks.

He hears the rush of feet on stone, hears worried calls and feels hands running up and down his body, but, Pitch fades away; he knows no more.

* * *

"Pitch!" Mother Nature cries, clutching the older, thinner, boy against her. " _Papa_!" She wails, begging him to wake.

North's knees groan with age as he settles beside her, laying a hand on her shoulder he sighs. "He's alive."

Tear filled eyes turn on him, wild and angry. "For how long? Can _you_ tell me what just happened?" She demands.

North frowns, inspecting the boy-teenager-his eyes catches sight of something shimmering in the wan light. Prying open the lean fingers, he finds a familiar locket within his grasp. Nudging Mother Nature, he holds the treasure out to her. "Look," he whispers. She sees and she cries. North kisses her damp cheeks and hugs the woman and teenager to him, "He saw." He murmurs to her.

She sniffles into his beard. "But, _what_ did he see? Did he see himself strong and mighty? Did he see himself fall? Did he see himself destroy all he loved and protected?"

Placing a comforting touch of the lips to the crown of her head, North squeezes her closer and tosses his head side to side. "I don't know," he replies simply, "Whatever he saw, you'll need to explain everything to him, it can't stay hidden any longer." North asserts to her.

Mother Nature lifts her face, a watery smile trembling on her normally solid features she utters, "Nothing can ever be as it was before, can it?"

North gazes into those newly opened eyes and feels only love for her. "No, but I think it's all for the better."

Her stare slips away, landing on the youthful Pitch's face. One green finger tracing the ashen countenance she mumbles, seemingly awed, "You just might be right, my thief."

North smiles and revels in the good to come.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for your kudos and comments so far guys! : )


	16. Epilogue

Floating down from the northern wind, Jack lands lightly in the powder snow. He doesn't move at first, just watching the skinny figure of grays and blacks; (he's shorter than after the rescue, though). Suddenly, a deer bursts from the dormant woods; Jack sees the fear in the doe's dewy eyes and he almost gasps as Pitch takes on the shadow shape of a wolf and bounds after the sprinting creature. He follows, making no noise as he tracks the destruction left behind in the deer's wake. Eventually, Jack comes to a small white clearing, Pitch stands tall in the middle; Jack doesn't watch his feet and hears a brittle twig crack beneath his toes. Pitch's head swerves, hot red blood drips from his lips and fingers, but, at least he looks nearly as old as Jack now. The Nightmare King wavers in his gaze-ashamed-Jack wants to tell him not to be, he understands (better than many), lean times drive you hard, force you to do things you wouldn't consider otherwise; however, Jack bites his lip and waits.

At some point Jack can't identify, Mother Nature materializes and comes to meet the two boys. She's tense, but then her gaze finds the lifeless doe and she nods. "You found it, wonderful."

Pitch bows his head, the sleeve of his dark jacket trying to wipe away the crimson from his mouth (he only smudges it), "Thank you." He murmurs and looks about ready to fall into the winter's long shadows when Mother Nature sees Jack.

"Ah, Jack Frost." She says with appreciation, glancing to Pitch she remarks to the boy, "Look who's come for a visit father."

Pitch appears pained. "You don't have to call me that," he tells her (begs her).

That stubborn jut coming to her chin, Jack knows exactly what'll she'll say-"I want to." Pitch's eyes droop and he sighs, no other argument rising from his thin lips. Turning back to Jack, Mother Nature inquires, "What brings you here Jack Frost."

Jack pauses, then waving his arm around as gesture to the surrounding landscape he answers, "Winter."

The young woman barks a laugh. "What else could bring Jack Frost, I suppose?" Jack smiles weakly back.

She shifts then, fluidly coming to her father's side taking his red-stained fingers in her green-hued ones. "I'll be back within the week, maybe you'd like to try a town then?" She asks hope and desperation tingeing the question.

Aged Gold eyes skirt away from the question and he bobs his head half-heartedly. "Yeah, maybe." The woman leans in, pressing a kiss to the colorless cheeks before disappearing in a whirlwind of clouds and fog.

Jack approaches, he comes until he's only a matter of a foot away. "So," he mumbles.

Pitch refuses to look him in the eye. "What do you want Jack?" He questions, voice strained and strangled.

"Dunno, maybe some fun?" He offers, a snowball materializing in his icy fingers.

Pitch scoffs, glaring at the pure white sphere. "I don't have time for _fun._ "

Jack lets the ball fall from his fingers and splatter on the tainted ground (he refuses to look, to see the red seeping and scarring his sacred purity), "You did not too long ago." He reminds him.

A mixture of emotions develop and surge on Pitch's face. "How did you even find me? Ser-Mother Nature's never told me."

Jack shakes his head. "We got the letter, we knew he had you-in your own lair, no less-he told us we had a week...Toothiana's the one who decided we couldn't agonize, so, we rushed in."

Pitch runs a subconscious hand over his arm. "They abandoned post and I could _move-_ " He cuts himself off, eyes hooded and hazy with bad emotions.

Jack's lips twitch in a strange smirk, "Didn't need much saving."

"I wouldn't have died." Pitch scowls, "You _can't_ kill fear, it's not _possible._ "

Jack wants to tell him he's lying, tell him he doesn't know what he's talking about, but Jack doesn't know much more than he does. "Well, maybe that's why MiM wants you on our side, you'll outlive us all."

Pitch stares at him humorless. "You're _joking._ " He sneers.

Jack frowns. "Kids can do with a little fear," he declares, "Keeps them from being idiots."

Pitch barks a harsh laugh. "Are you Guardians _just_ figuring this out?"

Jack quirks a bit of a smile. "Can't say, after all, I'm new too."

Pitch fights back a grin and says, "Tell your Man in the Moon he has a deal," Jack opens his mouth, ready to speak, Pitch holds up his hand. "But! Only if Mother Nature has a spot too."

Jack chuckles. "We can totally get everyone to agree to that! She's like a _warrior_." He comments appreciative. Pitch's sharp face takes on a softer, pleased glow that he can't help. Holding out a hand, Jack suggests, "Should we find a way to celebrate? Ice skating, maybe?"

Pitch rolls his eyes, but puts his hand in Jacks. "You and you're winter _fun,_ but I suppose I could watch."

Eyes glinting devilishly, Jack tightens his grip and smirks. "Oh no, if _I'm_ skating, _you're_ skating too!" He drags the boy off in a surprise gust of wind, using his strength to keep Pitch with him.

Pitch fights him weakly, but he's quiet; Jack thinks he's enjoying riding the wind as much as Jack does, but when he glances down into the teenager's face, he sees his gold eyes are large and for the first time feels how sharp Pitch's nails are in his bare skin. Okay, maybe he's a bit scared, but they'll be at the lake soon!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A companion piece will becoming up next.


End file.
